


Child of the Moon

by Angrykarin666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Other, Rituals, Werewolf Harry, Werewolf Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angrykarin666/pseuds/Angrykarin666
Summary: The Harry was raised by/as a werewolf AU.Harry, discovered dying in the snow by a ritually transformed Fenrir Greyback, it turned to save his life and raised as the notorious werewolf's cub. After a few rituals of his own and reuniting with Remus by chance the now female werewolf child is going to take the wizarding world by storm. Dumbledore and the Ministry won't know what hit them!
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback & Harry Potter, Fenrir Greyback/Remus Lupin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 137





	Child of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> The sex change rituals are for a reason (beyond adding more women to the story) so if you don't like it don't read. There will still be gay pairings and characters in this, if that's what you're worried about.

Fenrir Greyback was rather notorious, even by werewolf standards. More so than the alpha thought was justified to be honest; but that’s what wizards and witches - especially the snooty pureblood ones - did to his kind. They look for any potential evil and dial it up to its extreme to paint them as monsters, and if no evil can be found in truth they make up something suitable.

Most magicals knew the dark haired man as the most powerful and vile of all werewolves. That he had not only made it his mission to turn as many people as possible in hopes of one day ruling the world, but that his favorite victims of all were children…

That was, in reality, nothing more than anti-werewolf propaganda. Through his entire life Fenrir had only bitten about 20 people, most of which were volunteers or ill with something fatal which lycanthropy would act as a cure for, and of those only 3 were underage. In fact the only person Greyback had ever turned against their will, and the only child he’d ever bitten under the age of 14, was Remus Lupin; who had not been who he was aiming to turn that night in the slightest.

The vast majority of werewolves in his pack were drifters, lone wolves, or small packs with nowhere to go. He had merely organized them all, set up a system so his fellow lycanthropes could have the safety and supplies they needed no matter where in the UK they were or who they once were. Small packs and lone wolves were grouped into larger packs that could hold hidden safe-houses or territories which any wolf in the know could join during the full moon to spend it as safely and non-violently as possible.

Fenrir was certain that if anyone knew just how structured and harmless his people were most of the time they’d never need to hide from other magicals at all. That’s assuming that the ministry didn’t try to slaughter them all first, claiming that they’d attacked them unprovoked to prevent the sheep they watch over from feeling too uncomfortable about genocide of what are basically just a group of witches and wizards with creature blood, albeit usually gifted rather than born into.

Wouldn’t do to have them look like the bad guys and have people sympathize with the feral beasts now would it?

Fenrir will be the first to admit that using his infamous reputation from the ministry as a fear tactic during the war was probably not his smartest idea. It was a fun joke for himself and those in the know - his pack, his master (the only man he’ll ever refer to as such), and the friends he’d made among the inner circle - at the start but over time it’s just been more of a hassle then it’s worth.

And the rumor that he “has a taste for children”? He hates it. It legitimately makes him nauseous and he has no earthly idea where it came from. It was circulating even before the war or his turning any of the 3 youths he’d bitten.

Fenrir likes kids, always has and probably always will, but not in anywhere close to the way he’s implied to. Not even remotely. At all. Nope. Just no. Eugh.

During the war at some point something happened, the Dark Lord going a bit mad near the end just in time for that prophecy to push him completely off his rocker, and the alpha werewolf was left among those lost at the end. After his master had vanished Fenrir was left with no hope of the freedom promised him and his pack, and on top of that he now had a rather high bounty on his head. In the end the lycanthrope had needed to resort to some extreme measures to avoid his unfortunate fame…

Sighing as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window the wolf regarded his new body for far from the first time in the light of the streetlamps lining the dark suburban streets. The alpha’s lupine blue eyes were much the same, as was the shade of their hair and shape of their facial features. Fenrir’s nose was still a strong roman one, his eyes almond shaped, and his lips thin with a cupid’s bow and natural dark rose color to contrast against his tan skin. The difference was the sex of the person they belonged to.

Becoming a woman was different, but not unpleasant or strange. Personally Fenrir had never really seen the big deal with gender, gender roles, or each sex’s supposed purposes according to biology. People were people to him, what they feel like or identify as is their business and effects him little to none, and he himself never really put much thought or care into whether he had a dick or not or which he felt like.

What mattered was survival, pack, and skill. If you could survive, do something (be it a physical skill, a mental one, or a talent) to share with the pack or others, and were content if not outright happy then anything else was irrelevant.

While the werewolf’s features were recognizable as his own from before the ritual to change his sex the female body and its changes to his profile, size, and movements were doing a very good job of hiding him in plain sight. The fact that the alpha was comfortable walking around muggle areas like this cookie-cutter neighborhood only making disappearing all the easier.

Pulling her (for simplicity’s sake, since Fenrir doesn’t really care about what pronoun they use and most of the other characters are male) black ankle length coat tighter over her thick blue and black flannel button up, black denim overalls, and brown leather work boots that no doubt made the lycanthrope look like a female lumberjack to combat the chilly November air.

The werewolf is mentally pondering just what a female lumberjack would be called when an odd sound catches their attention. It’s faint, likely undetectable to any lacking her heightened senses, but there; the chattering of teeth and weak puffs of breath. Honing in on the source easily the alpha prowls silently across the empty street, frosted over and coated in a thin layer of snow, and into the backyard of one of the many identical houses.

What she finds there breaks her heart.

Curled up in the narrow space between the house and a small wooden tool shed, arms around their knees and head tucked unto them to form a tiny ball, is a small child - what looks like a toddler - wearing only a large and ratty t shirt in sub zero temperatures. Upon closer inspection the alpha spots a pronged dog collar around the child’s neck, attaching them to the wooden fence behind them with a thick chain.

Fenrir has never been so disgusted by a sight in their entire life, and they’ve seen some fucked up things in their life.

Careful not to frighten the child the dark haired woman crouches down in front of the opening, whispering as soothingly as she can “Hey there sweetheart, what are you doing out in this cold?”

A mop of wild dark hair snaps up, bright green eyes fixing the lycanthrope with fear and shock and the motion showing of a distinctive mark upon the child’s pale brow. The alpha resists the overwhelming urge to swear as she stares wide eyed at the little boy before her, this is Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived is currently freezing to death chained up in some muggle’s backyard like a vicious guard dog.

Returning to her senses quickly the werewolf noted the child’s, Harry’s, panicked breathing and tries her hardest to calm him down before he hyperventilates. “Shhh. It’s okay, I’m trying to help you. Just relax sweetie, take some slow deep breaths. In and out, in, out. That’s it.” Once the green eyed boy had done as asked and was now calmer the alpha tried again. “Now, why are you chained out here like a rabid dog?”

“Aunt Petunia said I did something freaky again, so she left me out here until I need to do chores in the morning like she always does when I do something freaky.” Harry pulled the hem of the shirt further down to try and cover his reddened toes in a likely futile attempt to prevent frostbite. “I don’t know what I did wrong, I didn’t do anything.”

Taking a deep breath to restrain herself from charging into the house and murdering this “Aunt Petunia” the werewolf asks sweetly “What’s your name sweetheart?” despite knowing the answer before adding “My name’s Fenrisulfra, but you can call me Fenris.”

“I don’t know. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon usually call me freak or boy, but I don’t think those are my name.” the young child replies, only stoking the fires of rage in the lycanthrope’s heart higher. The werewolf restrains herself before asking the boy “Well then I’ll call you Cub for now, if you don’t mind that is.”

Harry shook his head, a timid smile on his face. “I like Cub.”

Smiling back, mindful not to show her sharp canines, the dark haired woman asks “How would you like to come with me cub? You’d never have to come back here or see your Aunt and Uncle ever again. Would you like that?”

Fenris held her breath as the Boy-Who-Lived stared at her like she’d offered him the world. “You- You’d do that? You’d take me away?”

Nodding the she-wolf runs her fingers over the boy’s dark locks soothingly “I want you to be my son. What do you say Cub?” the woman holds her arms open “Do you want to go home with me?”

Harry’s green eyes were brimming with tears as he all but launched himself into her arms, nodding and shaking just as much from sobs as the cold now as he muttered into the crook of her neck.. “Y-y-yes! I want to go! I-I want to go home m-mum!” 

Shushing the child Fenris takes the collar around his throat off delicately before undoing one of her overall buttons and placing the far too tiny boy inside to rest against her torso and share her body heat before doing it back up. Placing one hand below him to keep him from slipping down the alpha rises to her new height of 5ft 9 (rather than the 6ft 3 she was when she was male in body) and starts walking towards the nearest pack shelter.

Hopefully, the werewolf thinks as her blue eyes notice the 6 year old falling asleep, her warmer than average body temperature will reverse whatever damage the cold had started to do to the cub by the time she reaches the group house.

About an hour into the walk however something makes Fenris freeze in her tracks; Harry’s heartbeat and breathing were slowing down, getting weaker. Despite her efforts to save the child he was dying in her arms! “Cub! Wake up, look at me!”

He didn’t respond. Even with the proximity to her heated body for an hour his lips and skin were starting to turn blue. Adrenaline rushing through her veins as she scrambled for a way to prevent him dying, her mind quickly finding an option - the only option she can reach in time - that should do it.

Mentally thanking the fact that she’s uniquely blessed for a werewolf, not bound by the moon to shift or turn another, the alpha lifts the boy so his already scabbed neck is by her face and bites just hard enough to reopen the wounds already present. The scarring from that pronged collar will hide the bite well. Licking the bleeding wound to jump-start the bite’s healing process Fenris lets out a relieved breath when it works.

Soon enough her cub’s breathing properly, heart beating stronger than she’d ever heard it in his tiny chest and skin filling with color. Crisis averted the alpha returns to her travel, another hour til they reach their destination. If the Ministry or Light, hell any of the wizarding world, found out what she’d just done they’d lose their minds.

Harry Potter had just been adopted and turned by Fenrir Greyback; he was a werewolf.


End file.
